Long Swing... or High Chance of Contact?

When I wrote last time about what some coaches call the “load”—i.e., the rearward transfer of the bat to the position from which it will fly straight at the pitch—I emphasized the importance of shifting the shoulders forward while the pitcher is releasing the ball. I don’t think this produces a “long swing” simply because most of it is accomplished before the hitter actually decides to drive at the ball with his hands… but say, for the sake of argument, that it is long. After all, cutting an arc from behind the rear shoulder to far in front of the plate as the shifting body rises more erect on the front leg is... well, pretty long. It’s more so, anyway, than merely lopping down on the ball with quick hands from above the rear shoulder. Why not opt for quickness?

I’m covering old ground, but from a new direction—and I want to be very clear. So let me put it this way. Long is good if most of that length is traversed in the plain of the ball’s flight. The swing I described moves in just such a plain: I actually want the bat, yes, to be in the ball’s plain of flight a long time. That way, if I’m a little late, I may still hit a shot to the opposite field, or at least foul the pitch off and earn myself another offering. If I’m a little early, maybe I can get just enough of the pitch to loop it over the infielders’ heads. I am increasing my chances of contact, however you add the figures.

If, on the other hand, I am quick to the ball from a point outside its plain of flight, I may be less fooled inasmuch as I’m relying minimally upon any timing movements beyond my hands—but my bat will also intersect the ball’s plain of flight in a single line (or, if you prefer, its sweet spot will be able to meet the ball at just one point). These odds don’t appeal to me. Sure, we’d all like to smack the ball in just the right place at just the right moment. Texas-leaguers and fisted bloopers are not “aesthetic”, and may even elicit laughs from our teammates in the dugout. But they get the job done.

Many of the hitters I’ve listed on this Web page's bottom were able to amass scores of hits precisely because their bat spent so much time in the ball’s path—not necessarily because it met the ball at a “high impact” instant. Outfielders had to play guys like Al Simmons and Stan Musial (not to mention really free swingers like Gehrig and Clemente) deep because they so often drove the ball to the wall (if not over it). Hence the less solid connections had an increased chance of falling in the vacated zone just beyond the infield. I strongly suspect that even Ty Cobb profited from such a style. I grew up imagining him a Jurassic Tony Gwynn, probably able to cast a frisby anywhere between the foul lines and then serve up the next pitch to that very spot. But the photographic record suggests that Cobb brought his bat very far off his rear shoulder with a high recoil of the forward leg, then sent the stick trailing lengthily through the ball’s plain of flight with a stride of about a yard. His famously split hands, by the way, were together once the bat surged forward from its “load” position (the top hand being held rather loose).

A hit is a hit, and hits mean victories. Why would you choose to take an instrument to the plate with a very small zone for solid, productive contact and then swing so that it has but one possible point of intersection with the ball? I like the feel of a resonating sweet spot, too—but I like safeties even more.